


Bury My Love (in the moondust)

by tiniestawoo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (is it canon divergence if it happens before canon starts? probably??), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Courtroom Drama, Divorce, F/M, Getting Back Together, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pre-Canon, Snark, Texting, Warning: Kate Argent, Werewolf Culture, as slow burn as I get, mentions of statutory rape, past Peter Hale/Chris Argent - Freeform, so much texting, sort of a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo
Summary: Chris spent 10 years as a soldier in a war that he didn’t believe (had never believed) in. When the family he’s dedicated himself to threatens the one person he’s never managed to let go of he makes a decision that changes everything.—Chris nodded. “I understand. I’m glad you’re all safe. I’m sorry” —he glanced at the floor— “that I didn’t stop it earlier. For Derek.”Talia studied his face for a long moment. “I’m sure you had your reasons. Derek will recover faster from being used by your sister than he would from losing his entire family.” She paused a moment. Chris suspected she was collecting herself. “Laura speaks highly of you, and of course, you and my brother are...old friends. My family owes you everything.”Old friends. That was certainly one term for what he and Peter were a decade ago. “I just did what was right.”
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Victoria Argent
Comments: 26
Kudos: 295
Collections: Teen Wolf Bingo





	Bury My Love (in the moondust)

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, a big shout out to my beta - [Jen](https://p1013.tumblr.com) without whom this fic would have been significantly less well punctuated and have some major plot malfunctions. 
> 
> This fic has been dancing around in my mind for a long time. I hope you enjoy it. I'd love to hear from you about it, either in the comments or on my [Tumblr.](http://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com)

Somewhere in a safe, along with a charger, is his first cell phone. It’s password protected. Chris kept it hidden because this phone– from a time when having them was a luxury afforded by few– holds a voicemail. On occasion, when things get hard, he’d sit down in private to listen. 

It opened with a warm, full-bodied laugh and then transitioned into a crooning, “Christopher.” The voice held the “errrr” sound for several beats, and to this day, it dragged a smile onto his lips. “I miss you. You’ve been gone for weeks. You got that fancy new apartment and then _you left me._ ” The tone is accusatory but painfully fond. “Come home soon.” The message cuts off, and from there, Chris's memory took over. 

It sent him to a Wednesday night, almost midnight. Seventeen-year-old Peter Hale had climbed up the fire escape to slip in the window of Chris's apartment. It was the first time he’d lived outside of his father’s house in Beacon Hills, the first night he and Peter had ever spent together in a bed. Peter begged Chris to fuck him that night, and naturally, because Chris lacked both the desire and the conviction to deny the ‘wolf anything, he did. 

His mother had died two months later, and by the time half a year had passed, his father had arranged his engagement to Victoria. A year, almost to the day, from that night, he’d said his vows in a lavish ceremony that had brought hundreds of active hunter families to Beacon Hills. His daughter had been conceived that night.

Naturally, the Hale family had decided to take a trip out of town for the week surrounding the festivities. Rumor had it that they were all headed to visit Peter, who was in his first year at Stanford. 

Chris would be lying if he’d said he hadn’t felt relieved that they were gone. He had lost control of his own life as soon as his mother had died and his father decided that Chris needed to take a more active role in the family. Needed to marry Victoria, so that the Argents would have a Matriarch while Kate finished her schooling. He became the quiet, reliable soldier his father had always raised him to be, and in doing so, he’d lost the one thing – until his daughter was born – that had convinced him he wasn’t evil, that there were still parts of him worth saving, worth loving. 

It was that belief, that trust, that conviction, having all of Peter Hale’s affection, energy and attention focused on him, that gave Chris strength. 

And God, would he need strength tonight.

\--

Kate thought her crimes were under wraps, thought that Chris didn’t have access to her bank records and her email account. Chris was a smart man. He’d been training since he could walk to hunt the supernatural, to outsmart them at every turn. It was nothing to outsmart his baby sister. A part of Chris, a large and very demanding part with a voice that sounded an awful lot like Peter's, had demanded he act sooner, that he stop the vicious, horrifying game Kate was playing with the Hale boy, but he had to be careful. He had to play his cards exactly right or it would only delay the inevitable.

If he stepped in too soon, Kate would simply brush it off, pretend he was overreacting, and wait for another chance. 

If he stepped in too late, he’d have Hale blood on his hands, too. 

He drove past the “Welcome to Beacon Hills” sign as the sun hung low in the sky, reds and oranges painting the horizon. He was cutting it close. Fumbling slightly, he hesitated only for a moment before hitting send, holding the phone to his ear. His heart sank lower with each ring. 

One.

Two.

“This is Peter Hale.” 

“Don’t hang up,” Chris said quickly. “Please don’t hang up. Listen to me, we don’t have a lot of time. You told me there were humans in your family, right?” 

“Yes.” Peter’s tone was clipped, quiet.

“There’s going to be an attack on your house tonight. My understanding is that, courtesy of her…” Chris paused, “ _relationship_ with your nephew, my sister has laid a trap at the pack house. Is there an escape route out of the house?”

“Yes.” 

“I’d bet my daughter’s life you’ll find it blocked. Take one of your humans and break the line. Then, you have to wait it out, please.” Chris swallowed harshly, “Just wait for the fire to be set, then get everyone out. If you leave too soon, she’ll be able to tell, and she’ll call it off and wait for another opportunity.”

Peter’s breathing was the only thing he could hear on the line for a long moment. “Why are you doing this, Christopher?” 

Great question, really. “It’s what’s right,” Chris said. “Go, she’ll start the fire as soon as the sun sets. Please let me know when your family is safe.”

Another pause and then Peter softly said, “Thank you,” and hung up. 

Chris glanced at the notepad on the seat next to him. He’d sketched out a very basic set of plans the day prior, and the first order of business was done. _Warn Peter_. The second was an address, rather than an objective. _129 Woodbine Lane._

\--

Chris Argent had met Deputy Noah Stilinski at a gun show a few towns over. The two had discussed Beacon Hills where Noah had moved with his wife and young son just in time for the boy to start preschool. Having wives and children around the same age, the two had gone out for a beer and talked about the town and their families, and it had been a truly enjoyable evening. Such occurrences were a rarity these days.

What had struck Chris about Stilinski was that he was honest, intensely observant, and brilliant. They were features that, in addition to a good friend, made him a phenomenal officer of the law. Chris knew that the information he had, coupled with the results of his sister's actions — which were likely ongoing — would be enough to put her away. He hoped it would be enough to end her reign of terror on innocent supernatural creatures.

Chris was far from innocent. He killed when he needed to, but he never went outside the Code. Kate, it would seem, had thrown the code away in favor of working disgusting schemes and killing any supernatural she could get her hands on. Chris needed it to be over. He knew that his actions tonight would mean the end of his marriage, his disownment, and that there was a chance that he’d never see his daughter again, but it was the right thing to do.

Gerard had taught him to never show mercy. His mother had taught him to never withhold it. 

Peter Hale’s involvement skewed Chris's judgement, as it always did. But if that skew of judgement meant innocent lives would be spared, he didn’t care. 

He knocked on the door, file in hand, and blinked as it opened to reveal a boy around Allison’s age. “Hello,” Chris said with a small smile. “Is your father home?” 

The young boy blinked up at him with precocious brown eyes. “Maybe. Who’re you?” Chris chuckled. “My name is Chris. Could you go get him for me?” 

“Mischief who is – Oh, hello.” A woman with brown hair and kind eyes smiled at him from the hallway. “I don’t think we’ve met.” She gathered the young boy close to her. 

“No, we haven’t. You must be Claudia.” Chris held out a hand, which the woman shook. “Is Noah around?” 

Claudia nodded. “He’s in the basement. Mischief, go get your dad.” She patted him on the back and the little boy gave Chris one more long look before he sighed.

“No, he’s not, Mama,” the little boy said. “He’s at the station.” 

Chris frowned, eyebrows pulling together. Clearly, the little boy was exasperated with having to correct his mother, but also, there was sadness there. “Okay, well then. I’m sorry to have bothered you, I’ll head down there.”

Claudia was frowning, staring down at the young boy. “Are you sure?” 

He gave another little sad sigh and tugged his mother away from the door. “Yeah. Goodnight, Mr. Chris.” The door shut and Chris heard the dutiful clicking of the locks as he turned to walk towards his car.

The drive to the station was fairly short, but the sun had long set by the time Chris entered to see Stilinski sitting at a desk in the middle of the bullpen, looking more exhausted than he’d ever seen him. “Noah,” Chris greeted.

Noah looked up, dark circles around his eyes. “Chris. Didn’t expect to see you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back. “How can I help you?”

Another day, Chris may have found time to mention the strange interaction with the man's wife and son, but today was not the day for that. Instead, Chris pulled out the file and disc he’d burned with the information Noah would need. “There’s going to be something that happens tonight, and I’d guess a lot of people will be willing to pay out a lot of money to cover it up. This is the information you’re going to need to make sure that cover-up can’t happen.” 

Noah looked up at him with keen blue eyes, narrowing them slightly. “What do you know, Argent?” 

Chris licked his lips. “More than I should.” He motioned to the folder. “Information's in there. It might seem pretty unbelievable, but trust me when I say that it’s all true. I found that information myself. I can…” He hesitated, “If you need me to, I can testify.” 

As if on cue, Noah’s radio crackled. “Beacon County Sheriff, there’s a fire out on the Hale property, all units, please respond.” 

Noah frowned, looking up at Chris. “Who set that fire, Argent?” 

Chris closed his eyes, dragging in a long breath. “My sister.” 

\--

Chris headed to the small apartment he still owned in Beacon Hills. He’d kept it so he could escape there when he needed space. Chris had convinced his family to leave Beacon Hills years ago, aiming for a nicer city with better schooling for Allison. No one had been fooled. It was clear that he’d wanted to put distance between his family and the Hales. Between himself and Peter. 

Around 8 p.m., Chris called Victoria, who immediately asked about his whereabouts. He avoided the question by asking to speak to Allison. He reveled in the few quiet minutes of speaking with his sleepy daughter, reminding her how loved she was and telling her ( _lying_ ) that he’d be home soon and see her then. He’d managed not to cry, holding back his emotions like a good soldier. “I love you, Allison. Give Mommy the phone, sweetheart,” he said, one hand clenched into a fist.

“Chris, where are you?” Victoria asked again, after Chris heard the snick of Allison’s bedroom door closing. “Your father is headed to Beacon Hills. Kate has been arrested for attempted murder.”notes 

“Did you know what Kate was planning?” Chris asked, fighting to keep his tone level. Victoria was the Matriarch of the family. Little happened that she didn’t know about. Chris knew Victoria had been involved, at some level, in the now-thwarted massacre attempt. “Answer me, Victoria, did you know _who_ she was trying to kill tonight?”

There was a long pause on Victoria’s end of the line. “Your father handled this with her,” Victoria said finally. “I knew she was on a hunt. I knew it was Beacon Hills. I know you have a soft spot for the Hales, but violating the Code is violating the Code, Chris.” 

_A soft spot._ Chris’s eyes fell closed and his bottom lip quivered as anger rolled through him. “Which Hale did you approve of her hunting down tonight, Victoria?”

“You know _exactly_ which Hale is most likely to violate the Code,” Victoria retorted.

 _Peter._ The Hale Pack’s dangerous and deadly Left Hand. Talia’s assassin and watchdog. Victoria didn’t have to say the name for Chris to hear the jealousy laced into her voice and for things to become poignantly clear. Of course Victoria would have approved Kate’s hunt if she assumed the only werewolf targeted would be the one she hated the most. Words escaped him in that moment.

Victoria, as usual, was all too happy to fill the silence. “You’re in Beacon Hills, aren’t you?” she asked. Her jealousy had turned to disappointment. “Chris, what have you done?”

“I warned the Hales. All of them, before she _burned their family home to the ground_ ,” Chris spat the words at the phone receiver, hands shaking as he gripped it. “She wasn’t killing Peter, Victoria. She was killing them all.”

“I didn’t know,” she murmured, “you have to believe that I didn’t know.”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” Chris said. “I want a divorce.” His voice finally cracked over the words, fear racing through him, fear of his father, fear _for_ his daughter, even fear for Victoria to an extent. “My father knew what was going on. I won’t force you and Allison to renounce the Argent name, but I can’t be his soldier anymore. The papers are on my desk. I’ll take Allison on weekends, and anytime you’re going out of town for hunts.”

“We can work this out another way,” Victoria breathed, “Chris, there has to be another option, for Allison’s sake.”

“For Allison’s sake, do a better job of protecting her from Gerard than my mother did Kate.” He hung up, the phone gripped tightly in his still-shaking hands.

“My, how the mighty fall.” 

The phone clattered out of his hands as he spun, gun aimed at the sooty figure of Peter Hale, leaning against the wall beside the window. Peter had one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed over his chest, head tipped back, the picture of ease. His eyes were open, pale blue in the low light, contrasting starkly with his dirty skin and clothing. Chris lowered the gun, flicking the safety on and dropping it onto the couch. “Everyone got out?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t just blown up his own life for nothing.

“Talia’s husband has some minor burns that should be healed by morning. None of her children, strangely enough, seemed to be in the house. My mother is bitchy as usual, but fine. Grace, Phillip and their brood are all fine. We found Cora hiding in the preserve. Talia and Phillip are out trying to locate Derek and Laura.” Peter uncurled his arms in favor of clasping his hands together. “We owe you a debt.”

Chris shook his head. “I didn’t do this for favors.” 

Peter smiled then, a vicious smile. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have.” His eyes stayed fixed on Chris, and the hunter worked not to shiver under the weight of his gaze. “Are you going to tell me the real reason you’re doing this?”

Chris stared at the werewolf, his lips pressed into a thin line. “It was the right thing to do.” 

Peter nodded slowly, his tongue slipping out to lick his lips, the ‘wolf grimacing at the dirt and soot he tasted there. “Well, I suppose that’s that then.” He turned towards the window, pausing with one hand on the sill. “It sounds like you’re going to need a good lawyer. Talia, for all her faults, is the best there is. I’m sure after what you’ve done, she’d be happy to help.” And with that, Peter launched himself back out the window into the darkness. 

Chris struggled to drag in lungfuls of air once Peter was gone, his entire body shaking from trying to contain his emotions about everything that had happened. He hit the floor, his knees cracking against the carpet, hands shaking as he pressed them into the fibers, fingers clawed, gripping for purchase on something. His eyes burned with tears that slipped past the levy of his eyelids, his back arching into a half-circle so he could press his forehead into the carpet, sobbing. 

He lost time there, arched over the floor between the coffee table and the couch on his hands and knees, fighting for every dragged breath. The emotions tore out of him, wrenched from his chest as if coming free from a vice grip. 

He was vaguely aware of his phone ringing a few times but hadn’t managed to reach for it, still trying to breathe, to find his center again. He was more aware when it started beeping though, and Chris's hand shot out to flip it open, still shaking slightly as he read the messages there. 

A pair of texts from Noah Stilinski told him that after discussing it with the police chief and DA Whittemore, he’d very likely be needed for the trial, so he shouldn’t plan to go very far. A second one just said, “You’re a good man, Argent.”

Chris tried to believe it, but instead switched over to the texts from a number that wasn’t saved in his phone. There were three of them. 

Found D&L – safe D told Talia about your bitch of a sister, she’s lucky she’s in custody

Thank you.

Chris pulled himself to his feet and stumbled towards the bedroom, curling into a ball on the bed, still wrung out from the emotional exertion. Behind his eyelids, he saw Peter, soot covered and grinning, as beautiful now as he was then. He heard Peter croon his name, curled tighter into himself and fell asleep.

\--

A knock on his apartment door the following morning caused Chris's heart to race. The knock meant it probably wasn’t Peter, who was obviously willing to let himself in. (Chris made a mental note to buy stronger locks for his windows, an oversight on his part.) There weren’t very many people who knew about this address, and it was unlikely that Victoria had driven here just to scream at him.

Which meant Gerard. 

Chris steeled himself (and grabbed his abandoned gun from the couch) as he made his way towards the door, taking a long breath before he looked through the peephole. He holstered the gun and pulled the door open, blinking at the young woman on his doorstep. “Good morning?” 

The young woman was clearly a Hale, with distinctive dark hair and pale green eyes. She was young, too young to be Talia. 

“Are you Argent?” she asked, flashing him a grin that reminded him entirely too much of Peter as she shouldered past him into his apartment. It was only then that he realized she had a bag of groceries in one hand. 

“What would you have done if I said no?” Chris asked, closing the door and turning around to cross his arms. 

“I would have known you were lying,” she said with a smirk over her shoulder. “Uncle Peter gave a good description. And there aren’t very many people in Beacon Hills who would answer the door with a gun.” She dug through a few cabinets, grimacing at the frying pan when she finally found it, turning to the sink to wash it. “How do you like your eggs?”

Chris stumbled, only slightly, and sat on a bar stool in front of the breakfast nook, blinking at the young woman who was making herself at home. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.” 

She turned and smiled brightly at him, “Oh, right, sorry. I’m Laura Hale.” She wiped her hand on a dish towel and held it out for him. 

Chris shook it, still confused. “And you’re in my apartment at…” He glanced around her at the clock on the microwave. “There’s no way it's 4am.”

Laura let out a peel of laughter, “Correct. It’s probably like 8-ish. That clock is super wrong. This place is a dump.” She went back to the cabinets, digging out a bowl that also needed cleaning, and a fork, breaking a few eggs into it. “Also, you didn’t answer, so you’re getting scrambled.”

“I haven’t lived here in awhile,” Chris said, frowning. “Sorry it’s not up to your standards. You still haven’t told me why you’re here. You do know what I am, right?” 

Laura stopped what she was doing and turned around completely to face Chris. “I know you’re a hunter, yeah. Except, last night you saved my entire family from burning to death, Mr. Argent.” She sighed, some of the bravado falling away. “Uncle Peter told us what you did, that you went against your family. For us. Mom and Grandma are with Derek, Aunt Grace took Cora and her kids and went out of town for a while. Dad and Uncle Peter are dealing with the police about the house. Which left me.” She blinked a few times, turning her face away, and Chris pointedly ignored the tears that formed. “You saved our family but I kind of think you might have lost yours in the process? I’m here because I thought you might not want to be alone either?” 

Chris wondered if being incredibly intuitive and reading situations like a chessboard was a Hale trait, or if this young woman had learned it directly from Peter. “Have you scrambled the eggs yet?” he asked gently, forcing a small smile onto his lips. “If not, I like sunny side up.”

Laura gave him that bright smile again and nodded. “I brought bread. Do you have a toaster?” 

\--

_“Christopher.” The voice shook him from sleep, and he rolled over to see his mother’s face, the woman perched on the edge of the bed in his small apartment. “My sweet boy.”_

_“Mom?” Chris asked, sitting up and staring down at her with confused eyes._

_“The road ahead of us is fraught with danger. You must remember to protect your soul. Your sister has lost her way, but I know you, my son, I know you will always do what is right, even if it is not easy.”_

_“I don’t understand,” Chris said helplessly. “Mom?”_

_The woman stood from the bed, her dark hair hiding her face from his view. She faded away as she walked, and was completely gone before she got to the door._

Chris woke with tears on his pillow. Gathering himself and wiping his eyes, he glanced at his phone, plugged in next to the bed. It blinked a notification about unread messages.

There was one from Laura, another werewolf trivia question that Chris knew the answer to, but he chose to make her wait for a more reasonable hour. It had become something of a game between them; the hunter and the ‘wolf. 

_“How should someone human greet an alpha werewolf to show respect?” Laura asked, a book resting on her knees as she lounged on Chris's sofa._

_“I don’t know that one.” Chris answered honestly from the table, where he’s going through paperwork from the DA about the upcoming hearing. There’s a letter there too from Victoria’s divorce lawyer too that he doesn’t want to think about._

_“Head tip!” Laura called across the living room. “Don’t bear your neck. Only wolves do that._ ”

Chris knew if he did send a response, she’d be awake to receive it. No one seemed to be sleeping well these days. Laura did a good job of pretending, but he could see the toll the last three weeks had taken on the 18-year-old. She wasn’t his daughter, but as she’s inserted herself into his life, he couldn't help but be concerned about her.

There’s another message from Noah, reminding him that he wouldn't be able to be at the courthouse later that day for Kate’s first pre-trial hearing. Chris would have preferred to have the deputy by his side, but Noah’s wife’s illness had been progressing rapidly in the last weeks. Chris knew Noah needed to be with his wife and son. 

The third unread message was from – somewhat surprisingly—Peter. It was just two words, but the willing contact by the werewolf always did a surprisingly good job of ripping emotions out of Chris. Part of it, Chris was sure, was that he’s been repressing emotions for most of a decade. The ‘Thank you’ was heavy, especially sent on the eve of the beginning of Kate’s trial for arson and attempted murder. 

Chris flicked from the text messages to his pictures and scrolled to a picture of Allison. After a long moment of staring at it, he whispered, “I hope one day you’ll understand and be proud of me. One day, my sweet girl.”

\--

Chris made it three steps into the Beacon County Courthouse before he had a werewolf shadow. “Good morning,” he greeted, withholding judgement about which Hale had joined him until they revealed themself.

“Good morning, Mr. Argent.”

Chris froze, dragging in a breath before turning to face Talia Hale, the alpha. “Mrs. Hale,” he said with a polite, if slightly exaggerated, tip of his head. 

Talia gave him a terse smile. “Sorry that I haven’t gotten a chance to run into you before now. As you can imagine, I’ve been busy.” 

Chris nodded. “I understand. I’m glad you’re all safe. I’m sorry” —he glanced at the floor— “that I didn’t stop it earlier. For Derek.” 

Talia studied his face for a long moment. “I’m sure you had your reasons. Derek will recover faster from being used by your sister than he would from losing his entire family.” She paused a moment. Chris suspected she was collecting herself. “Laura speaks highly of you, and of course, you and my brother are…old friends. My family owes you everything.”

Old friends. That was certainly one term for what he and Peter were a decade ago. “I just did what was right.”

“What was right.” Chris froze when he heard that voice spit those words out. “Falsely accusing your own sister of heinous crimes. Betraying your own flesh and blood.”

Chris closed his eyes for a moment and when he reopened them, he could see Talia’s eyes narrowed at a figure over his shoulder. He turned slowly, facing down his own father, ironically thankful for the presence of the alpha werewolf at his side. “They’re not false accusations and you know that.” 

“Oh, you’re going to take them back,” Gerard said with a smug grin, stepping close to Chris. Chris had to resist stepping away. “You’re going to take back all the bad decisions you’ve made lately. Allison needs her father after all.” 

“We can both agree that Allison needs her father.” Talia’s voice shocked Chris out of the pit of fear that his daughter’s name had invoked in him. “Chris and I were just discussing the fact that any court in the country would take his soon-to-be ex-wife’s connections to Miss Argent’s crimes into account and award full custody to the parent who brought a stop to them.” 

Gerard’s gaze flicked coolly from Chris to Talia. “No court in the world will remove Allison from Victoria’s custody. Chris isn’t the only one with a good lawyer, Hale.”

“No need to flatter me, Argent,” Talia said, the corners of her lips twisted up into a grin that was more a grimace. “We’re here today about your daughter, not Chris's. We’ll see you inside.” She guided Chris around Gerard. 

Quietly, Chris let himself be led by the alpha. He stayed silent until they were inside the courtroom, seated and away from his father. “I wasn’t going to ask,” he said. “About you being my lawyer. You have enough going on.”

Talia turned to him with a steady gaze, and she gave him a more genuine smile. “My family owes you their lives. The _least_ I can do is make sure you get to keep in contact with the only part of your family that still matters to you. Peter insisted.”

Peter. Chris sat back against the wooden bench and stared forward, locking eyes with his sister, who glared directly at him as she was brought into the courtroom. _Peter insisted._

Quickly, Chris sent a single message to Peter: Thank you.

\--

Noah Stilinski’s wife died on a Tuesday. 

Before her illness, Claudia Stilinski had been a beloved librarian. She was a kind woman who was always aiming to help others. She loved her son and her husband immensely. 

Seeing Stiles, looking too small for the suit he was in and standing dutifully by his father’s side, threatened to shatter Chris's tenuous hold on his emotions. He and Allison might have been in the same class if Chris had managed to bring Allison with him. They could have been friends. Noah looked up, red-rimmed, deeply-shadowed blue eyes finding Chris's where he stood towards the back of the room. 

Chris watched Noah lean down to Stiles and whisper something in his ear. The little boy gave a shaky smile and then darted towards a dark curly-haired woman standing with a boy around the same age. Stiles tugged on that boy’s arm, and the woman looked down, smiled fondly, and motioned for the boy to head off with Stiles. 

Chris had been distracted watching the kids, but not enough so as to miss Noah approaching him, also watching his son. Chris turned to look at him with a brief nod of a greeting. 

“He’s a good kid,” Noah said, his voice rough with unshed tears.

“He has good parents,” Chris murmured, turning to Noah. “How are you?” 

Noah let out a quiet, dark laugh and reached into his suit jacket, withdrawing a flask and unscrewing the cap. “My wife just died, Argent. The county is already talking about me spinning her death to get sympathy votes for the Sheriff position. I’ve gotta get through your sister’s trial, and figure out how to parent my son alone.” Noah took a drag from the flask. “How do you think I am?”

Chris frowned and took the flask from Noah’s hand, sniffing it, taking a drink himself, and wincing at the burn. “If you feel like you look, I’d guess terrible.” 

Noah snorted, taking the flask back. “I don’t know how you did it, Chris. How you just blew up your whole life voluntarily.” 

Chris raised both eyebrows and looked at Noah. _Blew up your whole life voluntarily._ He sighed, unsure of how to respond. They lapsed into silence for a long moment, Noah sipping from the flask. Chris knew that Noah was hurting right now, and it quelled the anger that might have begun. It helped, too, that as much as it hurt to hear, Noah was right. Chris had made his bed and he had to lay in it.

“Deputy Stilinski.” 

Noah and Chris turned almost in tandem at the sound of Talia Hale’s voice. Noah stuffed the flask indiscreetly into his jacket and held out a hand for her to shake. Chris barely noticed, his eyes falling on Peter for the first time since the night he’d _voluntarily blown up his whole life_. 

Peter looked, as always, good. His suit was well-fitted, shirt open at the collar, hair perfectly coiffed. He stood beside Talia with his hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders relaxed, face in a mask of casual ease. His eyes, blue and all-knowing, flicked to Chris. 

Chris gripped Noah’s shoulder gently. “I’m going to head out. Call me if you need anything.” Noah gave him an appreciative nod, and Chris hurried from the room.

“You didn’t voluntarily blow up your life.” 

Chris stopped in the parking lot, his eyes fluttering closed. He turned to face Peter. “Heard that, did you?”

Peter smirked as he walked closer to Chris and tapped his ear. “Talia told me about your father’s threat.” 

Chris sighed and nodded, looking anywhere but Peter. “Yeah.” 

“If your daughter is in danger, Christopher, we can go get her.” 

Chris blinked a few times and brought his gaze back to Peter’s face. The werewolf looked deadly serious. “What?”

Peter shrugged one shoulder. “Laura says you never talk about your old life, but that you won’t shut up about Allison.” 

“So, she is your little spy then.” He let out a hollow laugh. Turning to face away from Peter, he said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’d like to do this legally. I’m not ripping my daughter away from her mother if it means we have to go on the run to keep her.” He turned back to Peter. “And I didn’t save your life just for you to waste it by trying to break into an Argent compound.” 

Peter’s face settled back into a confident smirk. “It’s cute that you think breaking into an Argent compound is outside of my skill set.” Peter leaned in close enough that Chris could feel Peter's breath against the shell of his ear. “I’m not the whining 17-year-old you left behind, Christopher. You’d do well to remember that.” Peter turned dramatically to head back into the funeral home.

“It’s cute that you think I could ever forget.” Chris muttered, knowing full well the ‘wolf could hear him.

\--

In an ideal world, Chris would have been allowed to isolate himself. He would have been allowed to sit at the table in his living room and work through paperwork for the portion of Argent Arms he’d liberated from his father’s control in the months before the fire. He would wake in the morning, eat breakfast, work out, go for a run, eat lunch, work until the sun started to set, eat dinner and then begin the process of drinking enough that he didn’t miss the warmth of his family home and his daughter. 

Naturally, though, the world was far from ideal. 

Which was the only reason Chris could think of for why he was standing across a metal exam table from Talia, with Alan Deaton to his right and Peter to his left. Laura leaned against the corner of the room, her arms crossed over her chest but her attention fully on the discussion at hand. 

She’d make a great alpha one day. The Hales always produced great alphas, but Laura had integrated herself into Chris's life in such a way that he couldn’t ignore her. He felt like he knew Laura better than he’d ever known Kate. 

“We need to understand what Deucalion intends to do,” Talia said, both hands resting lightly on the exam table. “Satomi is concerned, we’ve heard rumours of what’s happening with Ennis and Kali’s packs to the south.” Talia’s eyes met Chris's and Chris swallowed. “Whatever’s happening, it’s the result of what your father did to him last year.”

The peace summit. Chris had been explicitly banned from attending and to prevent his accidental attendance, Victoria had whisked him and Allison away for a family vacation. Rumours, though, spread far and wide about the so-called ‘attack’ on the hunters and Gerard taking Deucalion’s sight in retribution. 

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Chris said, “I may be disowned but I’m still an Argent. No werewolf in their right mind would agree to sit down with me.”

“What if he were pack?” Laura asked from the back corner of the room, causing all of the people in the room to turn towards her. “He saved our lives, making him pack is really the least we can do. If he’s there as a Hale Pack ambassador along with Deaton, they’d have to talk to them.”

“Why am I going, exactly? Why not you?” Chris turned to Peter, who looked pointedly away, cagier behavior than was typical for the usually smooth werewolf.

“Peter and Deuc have a… _history_ ,” Talia said, rolling her eyes. “Not unlike the one the two of you share. If you think Deucalion will be unhappy to hear from you on account of your name, I doubt sending his _ex_ is going to get results.”

“It would result in _something,_ I just don’t think it would be favorable for anyone,” Peter muttered. 

Chris was surprised at the wave of emotion that slammed into him. Peter wasn’t _his_. He didn’t get to feel _jealous_ that the partner he’d left behind had sought the company of others. 

Unfortunately, the werewolves in the room were not privy to his internal commentary. They were only privy to what was apparently a very obvious burst of chemosignals that made Laura snort, Talia sigh and Peter turn towards Chris with an eyebrow cocked. 

“Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen.” Chris rubbed at the bridge of his nose, and turned to Deaton. “Have you met Deucalion?”

The druid nodded. “Here and there. Before… the incident. Hopefully he’s forgiven me for what I couldn’t do.” 

Chris nodded, and turned back to Talia. “Do you even want an Argent in your pack?” 

Talia gave a wide, warm smile. “Only this one.” She paused and turned to Laura. “Maybe your daughter, too, once we get you custody of her.” 

Chris turned to Peter. “Objections from you?” 

Peter turned to Chris with a sly smile. “Of all my exes, you’re the only one I’d consider allowing anywhere near my pack.” 

Chris raised both of his eyebrows at that but turned back to Talia wordlessly. The alpha gave a nod of agreement and motioned him around the table.

\--

The next morning, Chris pulled up to a nondescript house on the far end of town and honked twice, Alan emerging a moment later with a duffel over his shoulder. The druid dropped the bag into the back and climbed into the passenger seat without a word.

They were an hour outside of town before either of them spoke, and to Chris's surprise it was Alan who turned to him with an appraising look.“I don’t believe I’ve thanked you yet for what you did,” he said in his typically even tone. “It takes strength to do what you did.”

Chris gripped the steering wheel tightly. “So everyone keeps telling me.” 

“Regardless of your motivations, you saved numerous lives. Without you, nearly an entire pack would have been wiped out. All that would have been left of the Hale pack would have been Derek, Laura and Cora. It’s something to be proud of.”

“That was my sister’s goal.” Chris licked his lips and glanced briefly at Alan before returning his gaze to the road. “Can we talk about the future instead of rehashing the past? What do I need to know about what we’re walking into?”

“Sure.” Alan sat back, his gaze falling off of Chris and transferring to the front window. “Deucalion was blinded by your father. The damage was too severe to heal even with alpha healing and my assistance. He’s completely blind unless he shifts, and then my understanding is that he has some vision. His pack has been generally accepting of their alpha’s disability, but there have been rumblings of discontent.”

“So, we’re here to what? Offer Deucalion our support? They said he had some kind of outlandish plan to form a pack of alphas? Laura told me that the only packs with multiple alphas are those with alpha pairs.”

“Laura’s been giving information very freely to a hunter, it would seem,” Deaton said, a laugh underlying his tone.

“Former hunter,” Chris corrected. He held out his arm where the still-healing wound of Talia’s marking bite was visible in the flesh of his forearm. 

“Being pack and being a hunter are not mutually exclusive. You’re a hunter by birth and training, Christopher–”

“Don’t call me that,” Chris said quickly. “Chris is fine.” 

Deaton fell quiet after that, leaving Chris alone with his thoughts. Only two people in his life had ever consistently called him by his full name. His father had rarely even called him by his name. His sister had (frustratingly) called him “Chrissy” until she was far too old to do so. Victoria had called him Chris. Hunter contacts called him Argent or Mr. Argent. 

Until three months ago, Chris would have said that the two people who called him by his full name were lost to him; one dead, the other out of his reach. His mother was gone. The turning point of his life had been her death, watching the only good in his family fade away. He saw glimpses of the proud, strong woman in his daughter, but she seemed completely absent from his sister.

Peter had always insisted–the pretentious dickhead– in calling Chris by his full name. He’d done so without ever asking for permission or offering apologies, and Chris had let him. After he’d left Peter, no one had been allowed to call him that name.

Even months ago, he would still have considered Peter out of reach. Who would even consider going back to the person who had left them, even if it had been less than voluntary?

The reason Chris had left didn’t erase the anguish in Peter’s eyes the night Chris had told him they had to end it. It didn’t dry the tears on Chris's shoulder as they made love one last time. It didn’t mend the break in Peter’s voice as he whispered ‘goodbye’ and disappeared into the night while he thought Chris was sleeping. 

But, yesterday, in the vet clinic, there had been intrigue and interest in Peter’s eyes. There had been desire, amusement, wanting. A glimpse of the impish, cheeky young man Chris had once known so well.

Maybe Peter wasn’t as lost to Chris as he’d once believed.

\--

“When I got word that Talia was sending an ambassador and her emissary down for a visit, I certainly didn’t expect an Argent to show up on my doorstep.” 

Deucalion was an imposing figure despite the disability hidden behind sunglasses. His hair was still coiffed, he was impeccably dressed, and he spoke like he expected the world to bow before him. Looking around the pretentious mansion he called home, Chris realized he probably did. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was where he’d lived when he’d dated Peter. 

“Mr. Argent is here as my escort,” Deaton answered calmly, sipping from a tea cup, matching saucer on the desk in front of him. He and Chris sat in a pair of armchairs across a deep mahogany desk from the alpha. 

Once, Chris had only heard good things about Deucalion. Before his father’s actions, Deucalion’s only threat to others was his desire to hold the peace, to keep his pack—and the rest of the packs in the Northern California Alliance—safe. Chris had grown up hating the Alliance, Gerard’s maniacal ravings about how the wolves were more organized than they had any right to be. His mother hadn’t seen it that way; she’d seen it as a relief. There was no need to police the wolves if they policed themselves.

Chris should have seen the bloodlust in his father for what it was back then, and maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now.

“Interesting choice of escort,” Deucalion mused, sipping from his own teacup. “Tell me, what does Alpha Hale have to say to me? Don’t waste my time. I’ve had enough of Hales wasting my time.”

“My mother spoke highly of you,” Chris said, leaning back against the chair he sat in to study the alpha’s body language. The rigid set of his shoulders and clench of his jaw told Chris more than any words to come out of his mouth. “She said you could be the change werewolves needed.”

“Once, maybe,” Deucalion replied wistfully. “And then I had my heart broken by a Hale and my eyes stolen by an Argent. So tell me, Mr. _Argent_ , what is it that Talia and her slag of a brother have sent you here to say?”

“We’re here out of concern, Deuc,” Deaton cut in, causing Deucalion to turn his attention from Chris to the druid. “Talia wants to be sure that you know that you have our support should you need it, despite the history between you and Peter. She wants us to encourage you to not make any rash decisions.” 

“What sort of rash decisions could she possibly think I’m considering?” Deucalion sat back, a hand pressed over his chest in a mockery of offense.

“Killing all of your betas to absorb their power?” Chris asked quietly, but plenty loud for Deucalion to hear. Deaton gasped quietly beside him.

The alpha’s face shifted instantly, and he snarled, jumping to his feet. “How dare you–”

“Do you think you’re the first werewolf to consider it?” Chris asked, unphased by the tantrum. “Do you think hunters don’t know what it means when a ‘wolf starts to talk about forming an alpha pack?” 

To be fair, until the night before, Chris hadn’t had a clue either. But Laura, with Peter’s blessing, had dropped by late last night to warn Chris about what he was walking into. Talia had danced around the topic, and even Deaton hadn’t mentioned it explicitly. Laura, tears in her eyes, had begged Chris to come back safely, and had warned him what a monster Deucalion had become, the kind of ideals that the other alpha’s were afraid he was spreading. Chris may have left hunting behind him, but Alan had been right in the car; it was in his blood and training. Talia had been afraid to ask him, but Peter and Laura had not; this wasn’t a meeting, this wasn’t even a negotiation.

This was a warning.

If Deucalion didn’t back down, the Hale pack could and would put him down. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who among them had the most experience _killing werewolves_. 

“So Talia sends a pet hunter to do her bidding now? Or was it Peter who sent you here, Argent?” Deucalion’s face had shifted back but he’d remained standing. “You broke his heart, you know? Such a poor, fragile thing he was back then. Searching in any bed he could find for the solution to a broken heart. And you, leaving him behind to go play house with _Victoria_.” The name dripped from Deucalion’s lips like poison. 

Chris ignored the bait. “I’m not a pet, I’m pack.” He said, holding out his arm with one hand, fingers brushing Deucalion’s arms. The Alpha’s fingers – claws gone – danced over the delicate veins in his wrist, up his forearm to the bite just below his elbow. “And I’m here on my alpha’s orders to warn you against what you’re planning, Deucalion.”

“Does Talia think I’ll bow because she has an Argent in her pocket?” 

“Talia thinks that somewhere inside you there is still a reasonable man,” Alan said from his chair, He had sat forward, hands folded between his legs. “Once, all you wanted was peace. An end to the war with the hunters, treaties between the packs. A peaceful existence. That’s what Talia wants too.”

Deucalion sighed heartily and dropped gracefully back into his chair. “Well, I’ve heard the threat. I’ll be sure to take it into consideration.” His lips were pressed into a thin line. “Now get out of my house and out of my territory before I decide to show Talia what I do to those who threaten me.” 

\--

The drive back was nearly as silent as the drive down had been. Chris pulled through a drive-thru coffee stand for a pick-me up fifty miles outside of Beacon Hills, ordering one for him and one for Alan, who had ridden most of the way back with a painfully neutral expression on his face.

“Do I get a gold star for behavior?” Chris asked as they pulled back onto the highway.

“I guess Laura and Peter told you the truth.”

Chris nodded, sipping from the drink. “I’m glad someone did. I’ll be sure to tell Talia that the next time she wants to flaunt me like a weapon, she could at least have the courtesy of warning me.” 

Deaton’s hands gripped the coffee cup, “It was never meant to be an overt threat, but there are certainly connotations to sending a hunter–”

“You mean sending an Argent,” Chris corrected. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten what family I come from. Talia doesn’t need to pretend like she has either.” 

Deaton remained silent until Chris dropped him off at his house. He hesitated for a moment in the driveway, and then headed in the direction of the large home the Hales were renting while their property was rebuilt, parking along the street and climbing out. The porch light flicked on and Peter stepped onto the front porch.

Chris had expected a lot of things, but the relief in Peter’s eyes hadn’t been on the list. Before Chris could say anything to him, Laura shoved her way past Peter and launched herself at Chris, the hunter catching her in a tight hug. 

“Everything went okay, then?” Laura asked. Months of proximity had taught Chris to pick out the heavy emotions laced into her carefully neutral voice. “Uncle Peter yelled at Mom today, told her she should have told you what you were walking into.” Laura shuddered, “I think he would have challenged her if anything happened to you.” 

“Good to know you can’t keep a secret. Now, quit it and go inside,” Peter said, leaning against a post beside the stairs.

“I want to talk to Talia,” Chris said, squeezing Laura’s shoulder before the alpha-heir disappeared back into the house. “And then I think I need to talk to you.” 

Peter chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure Deuc had nothing but good things to say about me.” 

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Talia first.” 

Peter nodded and waved Chris in. Peter hid his emotions the best of all the people Chris had ever met, but Chris knew him too well. The signs he’d known in 17-year-old Peter were present in the 27-year-old version too. He hid his anxieties by bluffing with confidence, and his fear was hidden deep inside, visible only in the slight downturn of his full lips. There were conversations to be had, but Chris had a bone to pick with the Alpha first.

Talia was sitting on the couch, her husband beside her, but she rose to her feet as he entered. “Chris I–” 

He held up his right hand, the pack bite clearly visible to the alpha. “From here on out, there’s no more secrets, Talia. I’m trusting you to help me get my daughter back. I’m trusting that you’re going to protect me from retribution I might face for _saving your lives_. I’ve not _asked_ for anything in return, but now I am. If you want me to be a part of your pack, no more secrets. I’ll be your weapon. I’ll throw my family name and my upbringing around because I care about Laura, and about Derek and Peter. But I _won’t_ be used. I spent thirty years of my life as a soldier for my father. You’re better than him. Be better.” 

Talia’s eyes fell closed and when they reopened, they were fixed on the floor. “You’re right. Peter and Laura did the right thing telling you. I couldn’t fail at this, Chris.” She looked up. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead. My children would be alone. I owe you my life, and my pack’s lives. But, I could not let Deucalion’s threat grow any larger, and you were my best hope at curbing him now.”

“I understand strategy, alpha.” Chris said the title softly, respectfully, and met her gaze. “ But I can’t help this pack if you keep secrets from me.” 

Talia nodded. “The meeting went well?”

“I survived it. And Alan’s home, safely.” Chris shrugged one shoulder. “The threat has been delivered, Deucalion knows we’ve got eyes on his pack. I can reach out to contacts in the area–”

“His emissary is Alan’s sister,” Talia said. “That’s our eye inside the pack. They’re druids. They value the balance first, and then loyalty. That’s the other reason I sent you. The Argent name may be tainted, but you aren’t. You’re honorable and loyal.” Talia folded her hands in front of her body and bowed her head. “It’s an honor to have you as a part of my pack.” 

Chris swallowed hard at that. Loyalty and honor. His father’s laughter rang in his ears. He was careful to control his emotions, careful to keep his mask on. “It’s been a long day. I’ll see you on Monday?”

Talia’s eyes were tear bright as she nodded. “Thank you, Chris. I’m sorry. No more secrets. Let’s get your daughter back.”

Chris nodded and turned to leave from the house, aware of the werewolf shadow at his back. He stopped just off the porch. “You know, you’re a complex person, Peter. You always have been, but unfaithful wasn’t a term I’d have ever considered using.”

“Is that how he sees it?” Peter’s face split into an incredulous smile. “I was 21. He was a powerful, beloved alpha. I was the most promising Left Hand on the west coast. He took my willingness to go to bed with him for exclusivity.” Peter stepped forward, and Chris pointedly did not step back. “I know St. Christopher Argent the Honorable would never consider sleeping with more than one person at a time, but I’m not you.” 

Chris didn’t say anything for a moment, but his hand came up to land on Peter’s arm. “I hurt you.” 

“You _destroyed_ me,” Peter said. For the first time since he’d returned to Beacon Hills, Chris could see the pain in his eyes. “It didn’t matter how many people I slept with, or how good they could make me feel, none of them were _you._ ” Tears brightened Peter’s already endlessly blue eyes. “Did you even miss me? Did you _think of me_ while you were with her?” 

Chris let his own eyes slip closed, the hand on Peter’s arm moving up to grip his shoulder, and then the back of his neck, Peter silent and relaxed against his hand. “I never _stopped_ thinking about you,” he said, opening his eyes to pull the ‘wolf forward, Peter going without a fight.

The kiss felt a lot like what Chris imagined being struck by lightning might feel like. It was blinding, mesmerizing, all encompassing. It was everything he’d wanted for the last ten years but hadn’t been allowed to have. Peter’s hands found their way into Chris's hair, and Chris wrapped one of his arms around Peter’s waist, tugging their bodies together firmly, causing the ‘wolf to whimper into Chris's mouth. He used the sound as an opening, sliding his tongue in to relearn the parts of Peter Chris had thought he’d never get to touch again, his tongue glancing across smooth teeth and a rough tongue, Peter all too happy to give himself over to the hunter.

A whistle from the upstairs window of the house broke the moment. Peter chucked and dropped his head against Chris's shoulder. Chris looked up to see Laura and Derek grinning at them from the window. Derek’s cheeks were red but he was smiling, and Laura winked at Chris and held up a thumb. 

“Your apartment?” Peter asked against Chris's neck.

“Yeah,” Chris said, kissing Peter’s temple. “I have ten years to make up for.”

\--

Monday dawned in a way Chris had only ever dreamt about. Peter had his head pillowed on one of Chris's shoulders. HIs hair was soft and messy from sleep and sex and his skin warm. Chris couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. It dimmed quickly, though, with the realization of what day it was and what that meant.

Today, he faced down Victoria. 

Today, a judge decided if his _abandonment_ of his family meant he no longer deserved to be a father to his daughter.

“You’re overthinking rather early this morning,” Peter murmured against his neck, warm lips pressing into the skin there. “Talia’s a good lawyer, Christopher.” 

“She’s my daughter,” Chris said, kissing the top of Peter’s head before shimmying out from under the werewolf to head for the shower. “I haven’t seen her in months. And today, a judge might tell me I don’t deserve to see her.” 

“Christopher.” Peter sat up, and Chris couldn’t help but stare at the dusting of hair across Peter's sculpted chest, the sheets pooling at his waist. “No judge in their right mind is going to hear that you’re testifying against your own sister, and that Victoria is being considered for conspiracy charges and _still_ keep you from Allison.” Peter smiled, eyes sleepy, but confidence oozing from his every pore. “Talia will get you your daughter back today. “ Peter held up a hand, claws sprouting, “Or I will.”

Chris rolled his eyes at the drama but also couldn’t help but smile. “I’d prefer my _boyfriend_ not kill any members of my family.” He popped into the bathroom as he heard Peter collapse back against the bed.

“I _hate_ that term. We’re adults, surely there’s a more adult term we can use.” 

“LIke what? You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve been _married_ for the last ten years, I’m not up to date on modern relationship labels.” Chris turned on the shower. 

Peter’s footsteps sounded across the creaky floor. “Mate. Lover. Partner. _Fiance._ ”

Chris spun at that, eyes narrowing, “Pretty sure we’re missing a step for that one.” 

Peter leaned against the door jam. “I’m pretty sure I told my alpha that if you died yesterday I’d have challenged her, or, in human terms, we’d have fought to the death–”

“I know what challenging an alpha means.”

“–and, on top of that, I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life bedding whomever I could, searching for an ounce of the happiness I found with you.” Peter shrugged nonchalantly. “We can’t get married right away, seeing as _you’re still married_ , but really, Christopher.” His blue eyes flicked up to meet Chris's gaze. “I know who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I certainly know who my wolf wants to spend the rest of _his_ life with, and I’ve had better sex in the last three days than I’ve had in the last ten years, so I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” 

Chris shook his head, his smile painfully wide as he stepped forward to cup Peter’s cheek. “Who are you and what have you done with Peter Hale the Ice Prince?”

“You melted him,” Peter said, a small, fond smile on his lips. “Besides”—Peter leaned forward, resting against Chris's hand—“I never had to be cold with you. I trusted you, with all of me, almost from the moment we met.” 

Shame grew in Chris and his hand fell away, only for Peter to catch it and press it back against his face. “Don’t,” Peter said. “Don’t do that. Don’t dwell on the past.” Peter turned his head so he could kiss Chris's palm. “Just focus on making up for it in the future.”

“By marrying you?” Chris asked softly.

Peter smirked. “It’s a good start.”

\--

“... and so, after reviewing all of the evidence, it is my decision that joint custody is in the best interests of the child. I believe that Mr. Argent’s request for every other weekend in addition to weekends when you are out of town, and six weeks every summer is very reasonable. Given the length of time that he’s been separated from his daughter, I believe starting the custody arrangement immediately is in everyone's best interests. Mr. Argent, you can pick up your daughter on Friday. The decree of divorce will be signed today in accordance with the agreement determined between counsel.” The judge banged his gavel and glanced at the bailiff. “Next case.” 

Chris let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and Talia turned to him with a wink and a bright smile, her hand on his shoulder guiding him out of the courtroom. Peter fell into step next to them a moment later, and Chris reached out for the werewolf’s hand, Peter cocking an eyebrow before taking it.

“I taught you better than that, boy.” Chris froze, and the ‘wolves on either side of him did too. Chris drew in a long breath. “I taught you right from wrong. Good from evil. I made sure that you married a good woman, from a good family. I made sure Allison would want for nothing, and this is how you repay me. You’re the reason Kate’s in jail, and now Allison will have to live in a broken home–”

“It’s only a broken home if the homes are broken,” Chris said softly, turning to face his father and ex-wife. Victoria sneered as he reached for the cuff on his shirt and unbuttoned it. Locking eyes with his father, he rolled it up inch by inch. Gerard’s eyes grew wider and wider as he did. Chris glanced around before he rolled the final time, revealing the still-healing pack bite. “Allison will have a family around her that loves her no matter what she can offer them. Good people. People my sister tried to murder.”

“No,” Victoria breathed. Her eyes were fixed on the bite on Chris’s arm, a blend of fear and confusion in her eyes. “I will not allow my daughter to live with _monsters._ ”

“You don’t really have a choice,” Peter said, cocking his head to the side, studying Victoria. She looked away from Chris’s arm to glare at Peter. “The judge gave the order. Every other weekend, and weekends when you’re out of town. It’s very clear. You’re welcome, of course, to try to avoid letting Christopher have the custody he has a right to, but you’ll just end up back in court.”

Gerard’s eyes were wide with fury, but they weren’t on Peter or Chris, they were on Talia, who was studying her nails boredly. “You bitch.” He leaned close to the alpha, earning a low growl from Peter. “You bit my _son_?”

“Not nearly as deeply as I would have liked to.” Talia smirked. “It’s a pack bite, not a turning bite. Surely you know the difference by now.” Talia stepped back. “I’d hate to think of how many people you’ve murdered over the years because they had that bite and you assumed they weren’t human any longer.” She turned to Peter and Chris. “Come on, we’ve got arrangements to make for Allison’s visit this weekend.”

As they walked away, Victoria stepped forward. “What do I tell Allison? How do I explain to her what her father’s done to this family?” 

Chris stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Tell her that her father did the right thing. Tell her that I did what was right, and if my own _family_ won’t love me anymore because of it? Tell her there’s more than one kind of family.” He slipped his hand back into Peter’s. “Goodbye, Victoria.”

\--

It was another month before the beginning of Kate’s trial, and Chris's life revolved around the precious hours he got to spend with Allison. She was old enough to understand that important and heavy things were happening to her family. She understood that her aunt did something terrible, and that her father was the reason she got caught.

She was also young enough not to be consumed by it. She played in the park with Stiles and Scott and Cora and the other young Hales. She learned to cook from Talia’s husband alongside Derek. She learned to fight from Laura, who was enamored from the word go by Allison. Just to make Cora angry, Laura took to calling her the “new baby sister.” Cora consistently corrected her, saying that Allison was a _cousin_.

Peter and Chris bought a house near the preserve where the Hale house was still being rebuilt, and they spent weekends without Allison making up for their ten year separation, and weekends with Allison decorating it and making it a home. Chris couldn’t stop smiling every minute he was around his daughter. He thanked Talia every time he saw her. 

\--

The day Kate’s trial opened was rainy. The sky was gray and dark and ominous, and it made Chris nervous. Peter and Laura stood to the side of him, Peter’s hand gripping his upper arm gently. 

“You stopped her,” Peter murmured. “This is the beginning of her end.”

Chris turned to him and gave a brief nod, kissing his forehead before heading in to speak with the prosecutor one last time before the trial began.

Chris was first on the stand after opening statements, and the prosecutor turned back with a conspiratorial smile as the defense attorney finished her opening statement, scratching something down on a piece of paper. 

“Thank you, Counselor,” the judge said. “Prosecution, you may call your first witness.”

“Yes, thank you, judge. Before I do, I’d like to submit a correction to the record.” The judge nodded. “Okay.” 

“The first witness was incorrectly named on the witness list. His name has changed. Christopher Argent should now be referred to as Christopher Hale.”

Loud gasps echoed across the courtroom, almost certainly from his sister and ex-wife. Gerard let out a loud, “What?”

“Quiet.” The judge banged her gavel. “Proceed.”

The prosecutor gave a bright smile. “The prosecution calls Mr. Christopher Hale to the stand.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic additionally qualifies for the "Secret Marriage" bingo square on my [ Teen Wolf Bingo ](https://twbingo.tumblr.com) card.


End file.
